Stranger's Angel
by LBrain
Summary: What would of happened if Holmes had not met Watson in "a study in scarlet"?  Holmes meets Watson, not knowing him yet, on the Yorkshire Moors and then something so sinister happens that will change both Watson and Holmes' lives forever...  My first story
1. Prologue

**This is my first story. Obviously it is still a work in progress and more chapters will be coming up. I hope you enjoy it!**

**Thanks to my good friend for the title idea! **

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own Sherlock Holmes. He was created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and is therefore owned by him.**

**Prologue: **

It was proven to me on the night of 28th November 1897 that the countryside is more likely to be a victim on crime than the deepest, darkest alleyways of London. The fact that an innocent man's life was lost because of me has driven me to the point of despair. If I could go back in time somehow and take that bullet instead of him, I would.

It is me that has prevented him from living his future, and ruining his present life. This man I did not even know, I was a stranger to him. His body now lies in a wooden box under the ground and his murderer is still at large on the Yorkshire moors. His murderer, Professor Moriarty, may be ready to strike again, and there is not a thing in the world that I can do about it at this moment in time.

I have been forced off this case by the detestable Inspector Lestrade, due to the false assumptions about my mental state. So I have now been confined to my rooms in 221B Baker Street, which I still require a lodger to co-habit with, under the watchful eye of Doctor White.

But I will somehow get out of here and back to the Yorkshire moors and find Moriarty, even if it kills me. That man did not deserve what he got and if I could go back in time and put myself in his place I would.

And that innocent man's name is, Doctor John Watson.

**To be continued...**


	2. Chapter 1

**Hello, this is the next chapter. I hope you enjoy it. Chapter Two coming up soon, I have already started it so it should not be too long. Constructive Criticism welcome! **

**Dedicated to my darling Budgie Limey (October 2003-28****th**** July 2010).** **She loved listening to the prologue, so this is for her. Rest in peace. I'll always love you. **

**Chapter One:**

As I walked along the Yorkshire moors I could feel the rain dripping off the trees onto my head. The ground was wet and hence slippery. I had already slipped over once and dropped my revolver in a deep quagmire and was not able to retrieve it. That made me defenceless and therefore more prone to being shot at.

My only light was a lantern, my only way of making sure that I was heading towards my location of Nightingale Hall. However, I was in danger of being killed my Moriarty or one of his corrupt henchmen.

All this was over the one case I was investigating at the present, the disappearance of Lord Nightingale. I had found out that Moriarty had abducted him over his discovery of Moriarty's secret headquarters in London. Lord Nightingale had been found tied up and gagged in an abandoned, disused cottage deep in the heart of the moor, by Inspector Lestrade and me. Due to my previous foiling of one of his plans he had decided to finish me off once and for all.

Moriarty, at that moment in time, had again disappeared. However, the evidence was most conclusive that he was somewhere on the Yorkshire moors, due to the telegraph that he sent me saying that he will end me once and for all. All I could do was to take the risk.

I continued walking across the moor for another half an hour, the rain had got heavier and the wind had picked up. By this time I had been walking for two hours and I was feeling fatigued (since I had not slept for 23 hours).

Suddenly I heard footsteps behind me and noticed a gentleman jogging past me. I could tell that he was a physician from the Doctor's bag he was carrying. I also managed to deduce that he had been in Afghanistan fighting from the unnatural tint of his skin and the limp that he walked with. He also carried his arm in an unnatural way; obviously he had had an injured arm.

"Good Evening." He said as he jogged past me.

Then he suddenly stopped.

"My dear fellow, you're soaked to the skin! You're walking with a limp and you look exhausted." He said.

"I'm fine." I replied.

But then I found my vision blur. And my limbs collapsed. Everything faded into an oblivion of black…


	3. Chapter 2

**This is the next chapter of "Stranger's Angel". I felt a bit guilty after writing this chapter, because of all the mean things I put the characters through! Apologies to the characters for all the pain and suffering I put them through. Especially sorry to Watson! You will know why once you have read the end of this chapter. **

**Anyways, I hope you enjoy the chapter. Chapter Three coming up soon! **

**Please read and review, constructive criticism welcome! **

**Oh, does anyone mind being a beta for me? **

**Enjoy! **

**Chapter Two:**

I could taste brandy on my lips. My vision came back and I found the face of the gentleman staring down upon me.

"How are you feeling?" He asked.

"I'm fine thank you. I'm sorry, but I must be on my way." I said.

"You're not going anywhere, with a limp like that and signs of exhaustion."

The gentleman had a moustache on his upper lip and a look of concern on his face. The medical knowledge he displayed to me confirmed my theory that he was a Doctor.

"What is your name?" The gentleman asked.

"Sherlock Holmes."

"And yours please?" I questioned.

"Doctor John Watson." He replied. "May I ask what business you have on the moor?"

"Sorry, but that is highly confidential information."

"I'm on my way to a house call; there is a woman there in labour. You are to come with me. You need rest and that ankle needs looking at. It's not far from here, a place called Barclay House." Watson insisted.

"Thank you, no. I have more important tasks at this moment in time."

"But my dear man, your injured!"

"I must be on my way now." I said.

Just as I was about to move I heard a gun cock behind me. I could tell that this was an omen of bad fortune. Looking behind me I could see the figure I expected. He was holding a lit lantern in his left hand and in his right a revolver. His nose was hooked and he was hunched over, giving him the slight resemblance to a crow. The strong wind blew his coat and there was rain dripping off his forehead.

"Mr Holmes." He said. "You know who I am?"

"Professor Moriarty."

"You have less frontal development than I expected."

"I presume that you are here to destroy me?" I responded.

"Quite an obvious fact, I expected you to be able to deduce more than meets the eye Mr Holmes, but yes."

"Before I end you I would like you to tell me the location of Lord Nightingale".

"I think not." I replied.

"You will tell me Mr Holmes. Or I will kill your friend here. "He pointed the gun at Watson's head.

I saw his finger move towards the trigger. I then pounced at him and tried to pin him to the ground. Then, I found myself on the floor with Moriarty's hands at my neck. My eyesight started to grey over and I could feel my throat being crushed. Fortunately, his hands suddenly let go of my throat. Watson had knocked him out with a punch and Moriarty was now lying on the ground motionless. I got to my feet and saw Watson with his fingers checking the pulse on Moriarty's left wrist.

"He is fine, just unconscious." Watson said. "Do you mind if I ask what the heck this is all about?"

"I suppose now that you have seen this I'd better tell you. Moriarty is the most intelligent criminal mind in London, he…"

"Holmes!" Watson yelled.

I looked behind me and saw Moriarty get up with the gun in his hand. He was pointing at me and pulled the trigger. Immediately, Watson jumped in front of me. Watson let out a groan and fell to the floor. Moriarty, realising I was still alive was about to pull the trigger. I threw him a hard punch across the head. He dropped to the floor.

I fell to my knees beside Watson. He was still alive but there was blood pouring out of the right side of his chest and I could tell that he was struggling to stay conscious.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three is up! I hope you enjoy it, however in my opinion it is a bit boring than the others! Sorry that this upload has taken longer than normal! Been busy and all that. Oh well, here goes! Please review! Lots of constructive criticism please! **

**Chapter Three: **

"I'm sorry, this would not have happened if I was not here." I said.

"It's okay, old boy." He replied with weakness in his voice.

Even though I had hardly just met him it felt as if we had been lifelong friends. This was my fault, now his life was in danger and for one of the first times in my life I felt as if I had a friend.

I took of my coat and carefully put it behind his head, he had fallen into unconsciousness. I thought to myself and suddenly realised that he had a Doctor's bag. Opening it, I found the expected usual Doctor's instruments. A stethoscope, hypodermic needle and various other medical instruments until I found what I was looking for; bandages. I ripped open his shirt and placed the bandages on his wound, now leaking blood non-stop. The rain was still falling though, and soaking the bandages.

A sudden thought occurred to me. I dug through the bag and found a small bottle of morphine and the hypodermic needle. I injected his right wrist hoping that it would relieve some of his pain.

I looked behind me and saw the body of Moriarty lying on the sodden ground. I picked up his revolver and put it in my pocket.

"Watson." I said to his still face. "I am going to get you off this deadly moor."

I replaced his bandages with fresh ones and wrapped my coat around him. After a struggle I managed to lift him up and start the long journey to Nightingale Hall where I knew Watson would be safe.

I looked behind me and wondered about Moriarty. If I left him there he would just awake and realise that I was gone, and he would still be on the Yorkshire moors hunting for me like a dedicated dog on the scent of fresh meat. This incident would anger him even more, and he would be more determined to end me. I would have to leave Moriarty there. I could not risk Watson's life anymore.

As I walked I could feel the strain on the ankle that I fell on. This was agony, but minute compared to the pain that Watson was in. I felt myself walking over an extremely wet piece of ground. Then my wretched ankle gave way beneath me and I found myself lying on my back in the mud. Watson was on the ground next to me, face down. I struggled to move him on to his back. He was still unconscious and if I did not get him help urgently he would surely die, and I would not forgive myself. My ankle was aching and I could feel it going numb, I had to carry on. Slowly, I stood up and put my arms under Watson and began the slow process of lifting him up. I began to walk. My vision began to blur and I felt faint. I took a deep breath in and hoped it would help. But then I could see grey patches, this would not happen and I would not let it happen. I decided to concentrate my thoughts on analysing Watson's condition to keep my mind busy. However all of a sudden I felt the hard ground below me as I hit it and my mind was silenced. **Chapter Four, coming soon! **


	5. Chapter 4

**After ages I have finally found the time to upload chapter four! Again, please review and use constructive criticism please. Oh, I forgot to say. The part in italics at the beginning may confuse you, but it should become all clear by the end on the chapter. **

**Enjoy! **

**Chapter Four: **

"_Lights. White light is coming straight from the sun. Day? No, it can't be day, it is night! And who is that? A man no more than thirty. A keen archaeologist, the mark from the trowel in his right hand, the dirt under the nails on his right hand, and more muscle development in his right hand. Darkness, he has gone. Who could he be and what importance is he at this moment in time? Why is he here and not miles away digging in the dirt? Archaeology, the study of past human life and societies, discovery of remains and pottery. _

_Moustached man, who is he? He must be aware of the Shire horse skeleton, it's murderer must be found. It's murder may affect the course of European history! A needle in the moustached man's hand. Cocaine, a 7% solution? The world is fading and dying. Moriarty! Coming out of the darkness with a revolver. A slow moving bullet. Goodbye, I am dead."_

I opened my eyes and sneezed. Where was I? I thought to myself and decided not to ask the traditional "sleeper awakes" question of "Where am I?" That would show me up as being in ill health and confused. No, I would analyse my surroundings and see what I could deduce from them about where I was. From there I would decide on what to do next.

It appeared that I was lying on a coach covered in a woollen blanket. My ankle felt stiff and I pulled back the blanket to look. It was bandaged thickly, and I was still dressed in my previous garments- somehow dry. This made me wonder how long I had been unconscious for.

There was a fire burning, throwing out a dim haze into the room and the heavy rain was battering the dark windows. Evidently, it was night.

I looked into the corner of the room and saw a burly, moustached man dozing on a chair. And it was then that the thought of what had become of Watson came to me.

All sorts of possibilities ran through my head. "Could he have somehow woken from his unconscious state, become delirious and drowned in a quagmire. Or could Moriarty awoken and sped up the process of Watson's death?" If either of these were true or an of the other theories I had thought of I would be the most likely culprit of Watson's disappearance. This being true, clever as Moriarty is, he would escape justice for this gruesome crime that he may have committed.

If I was to both find out what had become of Watson and prove myself innocent I would need to be able to investigate my surroundings. How though?

I thought to myself. If I stayed here and "played along" with the scenario I might be too late to save Watson. In the end I decided that my only option would be to walk out of the room and I hope that I was not seen. The risk was high, but it was the only option available to me.

I pulled back he blanket and swung my legs over the side of the coach. My head felt like it was spinning and I felt nauseous. I sat up and let my head clear.

Then I attempted to stand up. I put the non-bandaged foot on the floor and put my weight on it, while holding onto the side of the coach with my hand. My next hurdle was to get the bandaged foot on the floor. Slowly, I moved it to the floor. Being successful in this, I let go of the coach. With a tremendous bang, my ankle gave way and I fell onto the floor. The dozing man stirred and awoke. He looked around startled and noticed me lying on the floor.

"Good, you're awake. I'm Doctor White." He said walking towards me.

**The bit in italics was delirium. Chapter Five coming sometime in the future. **

**Please review! **


	6. Chapter 5

**Well, this is a very extremely late update. I have been so busy with revision, etc. that I had neglected this! I apologise. I hope you enjoy this chapter; hopefully the next chapter will not be as long. Here goes…**

I looked up at the physician staring down upon me. He was a well experienced Doctor, judging from how calm he kept.

"Mr Sherlock Holmes I believe."

"You are correct; can I ask how you know my identity?"

"A Doctor knows Mr Holmes, a Doctor knows."

This answer was not good enough for me. A Doctor doesn't just "know" the identity of his patients!"

"Now before we talk anymore we must get you up on the couch again. Would you like help, or can you do it?"

Leaning on the side of the couch I pulled myself upon it.

"You're probably wandering how you came to end up here."

"An explanation would be most useful."

"Mr Thomas Forbes, an amateur archaeologist, happened to be walking on the moors. Then he saw some poor fellow staggering along as if he didn't know whether it was night or day." The thick Yorkshire accent chuckled. "He stopped him and the poor man collapses from the shock of the thing; looked like he was at death's door apparently. He took him to the local pub and I happen to be there having a tankard. He says to me "Is there a Doctor anywhere here?" and, by George, there I was. Poor man, only thing he could think of was to go to the pub, shows man's reliance on the substance. Goodness, what a hypocrite I am! I then took him back here. Completely paranoid and delirious he was. "Watson. Where is he!", "You must know of the shire house remains!" Yes, that was you. Goodness, it's hard to believe that it was you and not someone else! In the end I had to give you a shot of laudanum to silence you. While the laudanum took its effect I was able to take a look at that ankle of yours; nasty piece of work that is.

"And of Watson?"

"Watson? That fellow actually exists does he?"

"Yes. Have you heard anything of a man injured by a bullet?"

"No. I can't say I have. I'm sure that the accusation is a side effect of the laudanum. I would have known of a man with that sort of a problem."

I felt as if I was getting nowhere. The only method I could think of was to find out about Watson myself. If only I could of thought of some way to leave the building and investigate.

"Would you mind if I take a refreshing walk in the grounds?" I asked.

"In that condition? Goodness, no. You are to stay right here." He said with sternness in his voice.

"Under my supervision." Dr White pointed to himself. "I suggest that you rest now. It will help that ankle to heal." With that he left the room.

**Until next time my dear readers. By the way Dr White seems a bit suspicious doesn't he! Well, well, well. **

**Please review etc. **


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